


Tell Me A Tale

by MrsMoosie



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Couch Cuddles, Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Reading, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 10:20:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27349546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsMoosie/pseuds/MrsMoosie
Summary: Crowley has always ordered black coffee at cafes as far back as Aziraphale could remember. Finally, he asks why. A discussion of eyesight later, a new Saturday routine is put into place.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 93





	Tell Me A Tale

**Author's Note:**

> Another prompt! This was written for @sick_pineapple on IG, who requested we explore more into Crowley‘s snakey eye origins. Honestly this is the cutest thing I think I’ve written ever. Thank you so much for this wonderful idea!! 🥰
> 
> Of course, @gotham_girl_88, I thank you!!

Crowley threw his menu aside as he sat with Aziraphale at the small cafe that was located near the bookshop. There was always a miraculously free table on the terrace. It was in perfect sight of Hyde Park, which they had been strolling through one day when Aziraphale’s nose discovered the best crepes outside of France. It was quite a sunny day, perfect weather to enjoy the outdoors and have said crepes. Especially when you didn’t have to worry about head office watching over your every move anymore. He pushed his sunglasses up his nose and tapped his fingers on the table, glancing off to the side at the passers by. 

They were still just friends, despite their new found freedom and six millennia of fantasizing about all the different moves he would make toward Aziraphale given the opportunity. Crowley was unfortunately reminded of his never ending pining every Saturday they met. He was stuck in the “friend-zone”, and desperate to get out. He was aching for more, and he knew Aziraphale felt the same that he did. There had been signs- little touches here and there, looks that lasted too long before he looked away, cheeks flushed. Crowley was afraid to come out and say it, and start anything but he wasn’t sure why. There was nothing stopping him anymore, his last excuse had died with armaggeddon. So here they were, pining over one another for another six thousand years in plain sight like a pair of fools, while meeting at this cafe. Just like every other cafe, Aziraphale would have crepes, or scones with tea. Crowley would have black coffee. They could continue this dance, this orbit around one another, while the waitstaff would unknowingly begin to place bets on who would make the first move.

“Everything alright?” Aziraphale spoke up, head tilting to try and catch Crowley’s eye. 

“Yep. All is good. All… Tickety boo.” Crowley said, not turning back toward Aziraphale. His focus was elsewhere, he was staring off to the side completely uninterested in conversation. Aziraphale frowned and followed his gaze, but his concern went away instantly.

He realized that across from the cafe, they could easily see the playground at Hyde Park, and there were many children running around, jumping off of the equipment, swinging and sliding happily. There was a sense of youthful joy that reverberated from the area, and Aziraphale smiled.

“You’re growing soft.” Aziraphale chuckled.

“Shut up.” Crowley’s cheeks turned pink, but he didn’t tear his gaze away. He could hardly see what was before him, his vision unreliable, but far away his protective senses and instincts helped. Something about the combination of fearlessness and fragility of children always had his brain on standby, which helped him to be the (self proclaimed) greatest Nanny the Dowling residence had ever seen. He was able to make out the children laughing and playing happily together at the playground. He always tried to keep an eye out, help some kid who was being bullied, or lost, even heal a scraped or rescue a fallen ice cream- nothing he would ever tell Aziraphale about, of course. Little did he know that Aziraphale knew exactly what he was up to, and brought him to this cafe often for just that reason.

“Crowley? What do you want? We’ve been asking you-”

“Coffee. Black.” Crowley said, eyes darting. 

The waitress left with their order and Aziraphale frowned.

“Crowley…”

“Mm?”

“Why don’t you order something different? I always try new things and… I’ve just been noticing that you don’t um… I mean you throw the menu aside and don’t bother to look?”

“They do a decent coffee… You know I don’t really eat, Angel. Coffee and wine, and I’ll be fine.” He quipped, hoping to lead Aziraphale away from where this conversation was heading.

Aziraphale’s voice dropped and he leaned forward, touching Crowley’s hand gently, in a manner that suggested he’d phrased these words carefully over and over, but never had the courage to say them, “You can tell me… Is it your eyes?”

Crowley snapped his hand away and blushed harder, crossing his arms. Aziraphale’s eyes widened and he took his hand back slowly, stuffing it into his lap. Crowley hated having this conversation. The last time it was during some temptation, and the person he’d been tempting had asked if he even knew how to read. Crowley had gotten quite upset and failed that mission, but it wasn’t his fault that the person was suddenly engulfed in flames. He  _ had _ ordered his meal a flambé…

“I know… I know you have a hard time seeing sometimes with things up close. That’s why you always get us lost when you’re driving outside of London. I can… I can help you.” Aziraphale offered quietly. Crowley held down his laugh- sure. The reason he got them lost was the road signs, not the desire to spend minutes more with Azirpahale by his side, adorably panicking at Crowley’s reckless endangerment and disregard for the rules.

“No. I don’t… It’s fine, Angel. Just eat. I’m fine. Tell me about your bookshop or… anything.”

Aziraphale nodded, concerned still and began to talk with Crowley. They spoke about books he’d been mending, restaurants that he’d visited recently, walks he’d taken, blessings and miracles he’d performed. Crowley listened intently, adding in details of his own goings on as they spoke. 

Aziraphale’s food came with Crowley’s coffee and guilt suddenly washed over Aziraphale. He regretted asking about Crowley’s eyesight, about him not eating, he was fretting that he had spoiled what had so far been an enjoyable outing.

“I um… You weren’t wrong. About the eyesight, I mean. It really is rubbish. I’m not big on food because the menu and reading it… If I wanted to you could order for me, I mean… No oysters though, that was a disaster.” Crowley laughed quietly, looking down into his coffee, “Anything in front of me is a disaster. Things farther away though, I guess it comes with sticking a snake into a human corporation and all… Not exactly compatible. I can see distance just fine.”

“Far sighted…” Aziraphale nodded, “I’m… I’m sure I’m the opposite. I have no problem with reading, of course but when things are far away I have a hard time.”

Crowley nodded and picked up his coffee, taking a small sip. He really did hate this conversation. Demons that admitted they had weaknesses were trouble. Somehow with Aziraphale though, it felt… Okay. It was acceptable, and he had less anxiety over it. Aziraphale always accepted him, no matter what, and Crowley would always do the same for him. They were two halves of a perfect whole… Probably why they got on so well in the first place. Crowley placed his cup back down, looking at his hand.

“Angel…” He started, then paused for far too long.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale blinked, looking up into golden eyes.

“Will…” Crowley swallowed and felt his hand trembling, the cup chattering in the saucer. His nerves were at it again, getting the better of him, consuming him…“Will you maybe consider reading to me? I… It’s not that I don’t like books, Angel. I love a good story just get migraines and frustrated. I just need your eyes, and your voice. I’m sure you have something in that shop of yours you’ve been dying to get me to read.”

Aziraphale’s lips spread into a wide smile and his cheeks turned pink in happiness, “Oh… Crowley there is nothing in this world I’d love to do more.”

“Don’t be so dramatic about it.” Crowley rolled his eyes, quickly taking a sip of his coffee. Aziraphale wiggled in his seat, lifting up his fork and knife.

Aziraphale ate his crepes, offering some to Crowley who, of course, declined any offering of food. He preferred to keep his attention on the park across the way, giving a small wave to a girl who had just lost her balloon. She was crying, until a large, shining unicorn balloon came across her way with a weight securely attached to the bottom. Aziraphale glanced over and smiled, wiping his mouth.

“That was-”

“Don’t say it.” Crowley snapped, pointing a finger at him. Aziraphale clasped his hand between his own and lowered the finger out of his face.

“That was very kind of you, Crowley, and you know it.”

Crowley turned red and grumbled, looking down at his empty coffee cup, “Shut up.” 

Aziraphale released his hands and stood, finding some funds in his pocket and leaving them. Crowley stood and stuffed his hands in his pockets, and they silently left the cafe, walking to the shop.

“So…” Crowley perked up, “Wine? What shall we do with the rest of the day?”

“Oh? I thought you’d like me to read to you… I mean if that’s alright.” Aziraphale added. Crowley shrugged as they strolled leisurely.

“What did you have in mind, Angel? Shakespeare? Pratchett? Carroll?”

“Oh! I did just recently acquire a very rare first edition of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, if you would be amenable?”

Crowley sighed, “If you must, Angel. Better be funny.”

This began a long standing tradition between the two. They would spend each Saturday afternoon, having tea and crepes at the same cafe while Crowley watched out for the children across the street. He’d save some broken bones and baby strollers from blowing away into the streets while he had his coffee. Once Aziraphale finished his plate, they would walk back to the bookshop, closed to the public, of course, and curl up on the couch. 

As the weeks went by, things started to change. The weather slipped from summer into autumn, the leaves were turning orange and red, and the wind was starting to grow colder. It was certainly a perfect reason to huddle closer for warmth. Crowley would stand from the table and wait for Aziraphale, per usual. He began to reach his hand out shyly though, taking Aziraphale’s hand in his and squeezing it tightly as they walked. The first time this happened, Aziraphale found himself quite perplexed and had a very difficult time reading anything to Crowley, let alone to himself later.

When they entered the bookshop, Crowley would leave his sunglasses on Aziraphale’s desk and set up on the couch. He’d wrap himself up in his favorite raggety red tartan blanket and lay his head on the back of the couch, curled up. Aziraphale came over, and instead of sitting in his usual chair beside the couch as he did at first, he began to sit  _ on _ the couch. He would read, leaning back into the couch and holding the book in his lap, small glasses perched on his nose. 

It was peaceful, warm, and comforting. It continued to escalate, very slowly. Month after month, new things would happen between them, and not a word would be said about it. Aziraphale was starting to suspect they should talk about it at some point, but Crowley seemed very content where he was. 

They’d hold hands on their walks home. Sometimes, Aziraphale would wrap his arm over Crowley’s shoulders if it were a particularly cold day. They would help one another out of their jackets, hanging them on the coat rack and curl into their spots on the couch. Gradually, ever so slowly, Crowley made his way to sit beside Aziraphale while he read, resting his head on his Angel’s shoulder. Aziraphale was surprised by this at first, of course, but as the weeks went on, he welcomed it. 

Finally, one cold December Saturday, they were holding hands and walking to the shop. Aziraphale felt his heart slamming in his chest, nerves taking over and causing him distress. They were just going to read, like they always did… Except this time it was an excerpt that he’d chosen specifically for Crowley. Something that he might know. Something…

“Agh, really, Angel? Poetry?”

“Only one…” Aziraphale sat down in his normal spot, holding the book nervously. Crowley moved closer and rested his head onto Aziraphale’s shoulder, sighing happily.

“You alright, Angel?”

“Mm… Let me read. It’s Yeats.”

Aziraphale read ‘When You are Old’ by William Butler Yeats. It told of love, pure love between two humans that were growing old. Aziraphale felt, for him at least, how he had loved Crowley since the beginning no matter how he looked, or changed, or grew as a person. Most importantly, it told of how he should understand his feelings- Aziraphale’s feelings for him. It wasn’t straight forward, as most poetry often tends to be, but it was love, it meant something special for him.

As Aziraphale finished, he glanced over to Crowley, craning his neck as far as he could to the side to see him. He hadn’t moved, he was nervous and wanted to see his reaction, know his thoughts. He really hoped that Crowley understood what he was trying to say, and trying to do. 

Crowley sat up finally and his hand brushed over Aziraphale’s cheek softly, pulling him to turn closer. Aziraphale did just as he wordlessly asked, facing Crowley and swallowing hard as their foreheads tapped together.

“Since… Since Eden…” Crowley whispered, eyes closing tightly. Aziraphale’s eyes grew wet and he let out a small laugh, his own hands coming up to touch Crowley’s face.

“Since Eden…” Aziraphale whispered in agreement. He leaned in and brushed their lips together sweetly, Crowley pushing back and deepening it further. Six thousand years of waiting, of pining for one another and a simple poem finally opened their floodgates. Crowley was overwhelmed, there was so much that he was feeling at the moment, and he was sure Aziraphale felt the same. 

Finally, Crowley had to move away and he touched Aziraphale’s face, smiling and kissing him gently one last time.

“Hamlet? I know you want to…” He whispered, kissing him again softly. Aziraphale leaned into it and sighed happily, pulling Crowley in tightly for a hug.

“I think I’d like to take a break, if you’re amenable.” Aziraphale smiled, and he didn’t think he’d be able to stop.

“A break? From reading?”

“Well...” Aziraphale continued, “Seems I have something much more important to attend to… Someone that I’ve kept in the dark, that has been waiting for me to be brave and come out of my shell.”

“Funny you say that…” Crowley chuckled, “I seem to have the same predicament.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on IG @mrsmoosie35 🥰


End file.
